


White Out

by DrakkHammer



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Erotica, F/M, Hot Sex, Hurt/Comfort, I don't care if you are a king - strip!, Mahal you are Freezing!, Rescue, Slow Build, Stubborn Dwarf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 23:23:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrakkHammer/pseuds/DrakkHammer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winter is bearing down hard and Thorin is lost, wet and freezing. His temper is not the best and meeting a Ranger in the woods doesn’t improve it any. Kieran has dealt with Dwarves before and finds his attitude more amusing than irritating. There is a blizzard coming and Thorin is chilled to the bone. He allows her to lead him to her cave and isn’t completely opposed to the methods she employs to warm him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Out

He was lost.

He was completely, absolutely, totally lost. It had grown overcast and the sun hid behind a thick veil of clouds. In the early dark there was no way to orient himself. No way to do anything except curse the stupid pony for tripping over the stupid root and dumping him over the side of the stupid cliff into the stupid river. That he was still alive was a miracle that he had no appreciation for whatsoever. He had been washed a long way downstream and now was lost, freezing cold, hungry and thoroughly pissed off. Thorin wanted to choke something right now but lacking anything chokable he had to settle for walking along muttering curses. It was not enough. Not nearly enough.

The stars were obscured by the clouds as if conspiring against him. He was tired, freezing and his temper had cooled as fear nibbled its corners. He was alone and all but unarmed in a strange forest after dark. Middle-earth was not the best place to be alone after dark. He was not worried about wolves as they left men alone unless attacked. A bear could pose a problem, but his ears were good and bears were rarely silent. It was what crept around on two legs that was the danger. 

The hunting party was safe enough, but Orc had been seen not three moons back. Maybe they were a scouting party, but maybe not. Goblins were rarely a problem but they would quickly take a lone traveler. Trolls lived in the mountains, but they too were noisy even more so than a bear. He moved his dagger where it was easily drawn. His sword was at the bottom of the river, but he was not overly worried. With his training he could do almost as much damage with a dagger as most could with a sword…almost.

Thorin stopped and listened. But there was nothing to hear. It was late fall and the birds flown south, the insects gone. The silence was so intense that it had a sound of its own. He tried to project – to reach outside himself as his grandfather had taught him, but failed. There was either nothing to detect, or he was too weary. The cold was eating into him, sapping his strength. The temperature had dropped below freezing and the icy chill bit into him going all the way to his bones. He knew there would be search parties out looking for him, but he doubted that they would find him this night. He had nearly drowned, his heavy clothes pulling him under until by sheer luck he managed to grab a half sunken log and ride it as he was swept along with the other detritus of the river. They may well think him dead. If they didn’t find him he would be dead. 

He shivered hard and realized that he had to keep walking. To stop was to die. His wet clothes just pressed the cold deeper making his muscles stiff and clumsy. He tried to find some trace of the trail so that he would not become totally lost. When he turned, his boot caught on a vine and he twisted, falling heavily. The wind was forced out of his body in a loud grunt. He lay stunned for a moment and then picked himself off and started to brush dirt and leaves from his pants when he heard the snap of a branch. He pulled his dagger and froze in place. Waiting.

“Are you lost?” The voice was soft and he thought, feminine. It was close, but he could not directionalize it. She spoke in Westron. At least she was not an Elf.

“I am not unarmed,” came the terse warning. 

“I could have killed you a hundred times over, Master Dwarf.” He could hear the smile in the voice and felt his temper rise.

“Who are you?” he asked, also in the Westron dialect.

“A friend.”

“My friends don’t hide from me.” His voice held a challenge. “Show yourself.”

There was another snap and the leaves rustled as the owner of the voice came closer. It is good that I found you. I passed an Orc scout not an hour ago. It was headed north, away from you.”

Thorin looked around, but could see nothing except the barest shadows of the trees. “Where are you?” he demanded.

“I could touch you,” came the soft reply. “You are blocking your night vision. Let go of your anger Master Dwarf. Let it go and see me.”

Thorin’s fist balled in irritation and his hand closed tighter on the handle of his dagger, but he realized that she was right. He was letting his stress interfere with his ability to see in the dark. He had been so caught up with being angry that he’d blinded himself. The anger threatened to rise again, but he took a calming breath and pushed it back down. 

He took another breath and when he let it out he saw her. She was standing quietly two arm lengths away with her hands loose at her side. She was a human, too tall as they all were and dressed like a ranger. He’d heard there were female rangers but had not believed it. Females had no business in the wild putting themselves in danger. Of course the race of Men had enough women so that they could perhaps spare a few, but it still seemed very wrong.

“If you will remove your hand from your dagger I will come closer,” she said. He could hear that she was still smiling and frowned. He did not like to be made sport of.

He did not remove his hand. “Who are you to be walking in the forest after dark?”

“I am Kieran daughter of Selrun of the House of Elthor,” she replied evenly. She took a step closer. “I am a Ranger like my mother before me and her mother before her.”

Thorin snorted. “I thought female Rangers were a myth.” He held his head high and glowered at her from beneath his brows.

“No more a myth than Dwarves who are said to have been brought forth from the stone itself.” The wind was picking up spinning late falling leaves around them. She looked around frowning. “We could debate my mythical presence but it will snow soon and hard. I have a cave with a fire. You are welcome to share it with me if you do not mind being in my presence.”

Thorin nodded once. “It gets me to a fire I would share it with an Orc.”

Kieran laughed and shook her head. “Such a compliment you pay me, Master Dwarf. Here I come out in the night to aid a traveler only to find insult.” She laughed again. “Well I will not take offense as your customs must be very different from my own. But we must make haste or the blizzard will take us.” 

With that she turned and started to walk into the woods. Thorin had to watch sharp to keep her in sight while avoiding obstacles. He tripped noisily and she waited for him and then started out again. She slowed her pace and he did not embarrass himself a second time. Within a few minutes they had come to an outcropping and he could see the faint glow of a fire. He pressed forward into the cave and went to stand by the fire, rubbing his hands trying to bring back feeling.

She went past him and came back carrying two fat grouse. She noted that he was warming himself then went back into the night. When she returned the birds had been cleaned. She put them on the skewer that was resting against the cave wall. 

“Unfortunately, these were the only grouse I’ve seen, so tomorrow’s rations will be venison as will every day’s until we can hunt.” She pointed to a mound near the cave entrance covered with pine branches. Hooves protruded showing that a sizeable deer lay underneath.

“Venison will be more than sufficient,” he replied tersely. There was a niggling feeling at the back of his mind that he was being needlessly rude, but he dismissed it.

The wind continued to pick up and Thorin’s shivering intensified. She looked over at him really seeing him for the first time as the firelight illuminated stringing hair stiffened by ice and dank clothing. Her brows furrowed. “You look…damp. You will need to take your clothes off and hang them by the fire to dry. Did you fall in the river?”

Thorin moved closer to the fire. “What makes you think I fell?”

Kieran shrugged her shoulders. “Perhaps Dwarves swim fully clothed in winter, but it is not the custom among Men.”

Her eyes had a twinkle of humor and Thorin could feel a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “My pony threw me. I fell off a cliff into the river.”

“You are fortunate you were not killed.” She moved closer to him, making him more aware how much taller she was. “Are you hurt?”

“Only my pride,” he admitted grudgingly.

She laughed, “That will heal. It is lucky that your pride is all that was bruised. The cliffs are not low. It must have been a hard fall. I have heard that Dwarves are strong and resilient. It would appear that the stories are true.”

He took his coat off and propped it on a stick near the fire. His muscles were stiff with cold and his movements were slow. “We do not break easily.” He pulled off first one boot and then the other, turning the openings toward the fire. He peeled his socks off and hung them on another stick. 

As he leaned over the fire it illuminated his face. She looked at him and realized that his face was pale, his lips bluish. Turning to Thorin she said, “You are dangerously cold. Do you have small clothes on?” The question took him by surprise.

“Of course.” That she would ask this embarrassed him. “Of course I do.”

She nodded. “Please remove them along with your shirt and pants and dry them. We cannot afford for you to fall ill from being chilled.”

“What?!” Thorin sputtered. “I will do no such thing.”

The Ranger pulled a large bear skin from the shadows in the rear of the cave. “As much as it would amuse me and vex you, I do not ask you to sit sky clad. I am going out to fetch more wood. When I return you will be bundled in the skin and I will hang your clothes to dry. Your dignity will not suffer a slight for I will not make sport of you. Being wet and cold in this weather is a serious matter and not the subject for jesting.”

His lips formed into a tight line and she could see that he was considering a refusal. “Do not convince me that Dwarves are as stupid and stubborn as Men. You would sit there clad in your pride until the chill brings a fever to you and your lungs fill and then you will expect me to care for you.” She glared at him. “I want no such responsibility. Now stop acting like a child. Warm yourself and dry your clothing.”

He glared at her. No one talked to the King Under the Mountain like that. He tried to intensify his glare, but she turned her back on him. She had no idea who he was. To her he was a stupid Dwarf who had fallen off his pony and gotten wet and lost inconveniencing her. Swearing softly in Khuzdul he watched her leave the cave. He turned his back to the entrance and stripped his shirt off and then his pants. He hung them by the fire and finally he removed his under clothes. He managed to hang them quickly, the chill air convincing him that he did not want to tarry. He bundled up in the bear skin and immediately felt warmer. He leaned toward the fire and began to draw his fingers through his hair, pulling out the ice so that it could start to dry. 

Kieran ignored him completely as she came to the fire and turned the birds. She took off her cape and hung it on a rock that was sticking out of the cave wall. She shivered involuntarily and then took a seat across the fire from him. The glare of the flames shielded him somewhat and she made no move to look at him. She poked in the fire on her side and withdrew a covered pot. She rose, rummaged in a satchel at the back of the cave and returned with two bronze cups. She poured something into the cup and then handed it to him.

Thorin took it, thanked her and sniffed it. He recognized the scent immediately. Where had she found chicory? This had been dried and roasted so that it had a soft earthy taste. Even without sweetening it was delicious and he could feel the warmth creeping back into his body as he swallowed the dark brew. A much as he loathed being in anyone’s debt, he dredged up some manners and forced himself to be civil. 

“Thank you for the tea. It is excellent. I did not expect to find such a treat in a cave.” His voice was soft and the firelight picked up the gratitude in his manner.

Kieran smiled at him and nodded. “I am pleased that you like it. It is a part of the stash that I keep here, so that if I am stranded I have provisions. With the deer and the wood we will weather the storm.” She paused for a long moment and then continued. “I do not mean to embarrass you, Master Dwarf. You cannot let your pride make you ill. Neither of us can afford that. Finish your cup so that I can refill it and let it warm you from within.”

There was more silence between them before he spoke. “My manners have been sadly lacking. I do apologize.” He took a breath knowing that his grandfather would be irritated with lack of manners. He was trained to the Court, but he had been acting like a churl. “You gave me your name, but I did not give you mine. I am Thorin, son of Thrain. I do not mean to be difficult.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It has been a very long and very bad day.”

She nodded, her face softening. “I will wager that it has. Do you have people who will look for you?”

“Yes. I am concerned that they are out and the weather is going to turn. I do not wish to risk their lives trying to find me.” He spoke softly, his deep voice rumbling in the confines of the cave.

She looked toward the mouth of the cave. “Soon they will not be able to look for you. This storm will soon be upon us.”

He pulled the bear skin tighter and looked into the flames. “Then it is to be hoped that they value their own lives more than mine and have taken shelter.” He shivered again. Even with the second cup of tea and the fire he was still freezing.

Kieran rose and pulled at the pine branches at the cave entrance, trying to block more of the wind. When she returned she slid the birds from the spit. They were both charred and raw, but he needed food. Deftly, she picked it apart, burning her fingers as she broke the breast in two and handed him half along with a chunk of acorn bread. He took them gratefully and ate quickly, strong white teeth tearing the meat from the bones and making short work of the bread. When he was done she handed him half of the second bird. It went down quickly as well. 

Thorin’s hair was still matted against his head and he reached up to drag his fingers through it trying to pull it out so that it would dry. Reaching up exposed his arm and chest, causing another fit of shivering.

The Ranger rose and came over to him. She knelt behind him. “Here, let me do that.” Before he could object, she dug her fingers into his hair lifting it and shaking it to separate the matted strands. He started to pull away, but she held his hair firmly. “Relax, Thorin. Your hair needs to dry.” She tugged him by the hair until she was able to pull the long strands up and into the heat of the fire.

He had to admit that it felt good and allowed himself to relax as she worked on his hair. She massaged his scalp and gently pulled his long hair out, letting it fall softly down his back. He’d seemed smaller when she was standing and she realized that his legs were shorter than hers, but his torso was nearly the same length. Sitting in front of her he didn’t seem small, and definitely not weak…just very very cold. Her hand brushed his shoulder and found the skin deeply chilled. He shivered again and she made a decision.

She rose and stripped quickly. She grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around herself. When she returned to Thorin he was sitting with his eyes closed. She touched his shoulder gently and he opened his eyes slowly, then started as he saw her wrapped in the blanket.

“Open the skin,” she commanded.

He blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion.

She smiled. “Open the skin. You are chilled to the bone. I am going to help warm you.”

“You can’t,” he protested.

She shook her head. Stubborn, stupid, or modest, it didn’t matter. He was too cold and if he didn’t get warm soon he was going to get sick. She had no idea how he had kept going this long. He must have amazing resilience. She yanked the bear skin away from his back, stepped in and sat down before he could react. She flipped the skin back up and shivered. He was freezing!

Thorin started lean forward, but strong arms encircled his chest and pulled him backward hard. He pressed against firm warm breasts and involuntarily leaned back as his body sought warmth. His hips were wide and she lifted her legs and laid them over his, entwining their bodies. She had a face full of cold wet hair and chuckled to herself. For all his pride he was just a man who was wet and cold. He leaned into her a bit more and she removed one arm to rearrange his hair.

“Don’t worry,” she said with quiet amusement. “I promise not to tell anyone.”

He did not answer and sat stiff and rigid in her arms. Little by little he allowed himself to relax, pressing more firmly against her, drawing her body heat to warm himself. She shivered once and then concentrated on elevating her body temperature. It was a trick she learned during her foster time with the Elves. It was how they appeared to ignore the bitter winters and chill of the rain. As her core temperature rose the cocoon of the skin and blankets became comfortably warm. She smiled as Thorin’s breathing evened into the long slow breaths of relaxation. She leaned against him bracing his body with hers.

They fell asleep that way and when she woke the fire was burning low and he felt warm to the touch. She waited a few moments before waking him, enjoying the press of his body against hers. He was hard muscled and broad shouldered, his body mass making up for what he lacked in height. He was very masculine and she allowed herself a few moments to appreciate that fact.

At length she gently roused him and explained that she had to rise to tend the fire. Kieran pulled the blanket from around in front of him and wrapped herself in it as she stood. “I will tend the fire, you take care of any personal necessities and take another cup of tea. The pot is on the other side of the fire.”

He grunted as he heaved to his feet, wrapped the bearskin around himself and made his way to the front of the cave to relieve himself. The wind had died down and the snow was coming down thick and fast. There was no visibility. He could not have gone six feet from the cave without losing his way. It would have been beautiful had he not been standing barefoot in a cave wondering if his people were safe and warm. 

When he came back she was arranging the pile of dried grass that had been heaped in the back of the cave. “There isn’t really enough for two, but it is better than sleeping on bare rock.”

Thorin didn’t reply, but he poured her a cup of chicory tea and handed it to her. He stood next to the fire his back to her, his shoulders stiff and hard. Kieran resisted the urge to throw the cup against that stiff unyielding back of his. Just minutes ago he’d been sleeping pressed against her and now he’d put a wall between them again.

She watched as he checked his clothing but even his small things were still damp. He frowned and poked the fire with a stick as if commanding it to burn hotter. She chuckled at his efforts and finished her tea. She walked in front of him and set the cup down. She looked up at him, but he didn’t meet her eyes.

She rose slowly and smiled. “You know, Thorin, we are in this together. There is no shame connected with keeping each other warm and alive. Perhaps it is that you do not care for women, but I am warm and will keep your secrets.”

Thorin shot her a glare. “I do like females. I do not like being compromised.”

“Then perhaps next time you will pick a steadier mount. Yours is at fault for your compromise, I am only at fault for trying to save your life.” Amusement danced in her golden eyes. 

He bowed his head, his hair spilling forward partially obscuring his face. “I apologize. It is not your fault. You have been nothing but kind and very patient with a cranky old Dwarf.”

She smiled. “Do not concern yourself. I’ve dealt with Dwarves before and I know you are both stubborn and rude, but you are also good people.” She headed to the bed of grasses and paused. “So stop being stubborn and come over. It is late and we need to sleep.”

Thorin came over, trying not to look at her. She smiled at him. “We need to put the skin down to protect us from the chill of the floor and use the blanket to cover us. I will turn my back while you put down the skin and lie down.”

Miraculously, he did as he was asked. When he was arranged with his back to her, she laid down beside him, pulled the blanket over them and slid closer. She could feel him tense and then relax in a way that let her know that he forced himself to release the tension. The Ranger slid her arm around his chest and nestled against him, spitting out a strand of his hair. It was going to be a long night.

Thorin was dreaming. It was warm and comfortable lying in front of the fire with the lass, she of the dark hair and golden eyes. She was laughing and teasing him, encouraging him to respond to her touches and kisses. He was a willing victim laughing with her and reveling in her touch. She threw her head back and moaned…

Waking him up. He opened his eyes to find that he was facing the Ranger, pressed tight against her, hand stroking her upper arm. It was her moan that had pulled him from his dream. He started to move away, but she slid one long leg over his hips and tensed her muscles, trapping him. His erection prodded against the soft skin of her belly and he shivered with a feeling other than cold.

Without speaking, she bent and nuzzled his forehead, tiny kisses traced his frown, bringing her hand up to trail along the edge of his beard teasing the skin of his cheek. Her fingers teased along his beardline to dip under his hair and gently stroke the rim of his ear. She found and toyed with his silver earcuff, the sensation sending tingles down his neck. He knew that he should pull away, but he could not find the strength or the 

will. Surely this must be a part of the dream. He let himself sink back into it only to be pulled out again when her lips sought and found his.

Her tongue explored the shape of his lips, seeking entry. Thorin relaxed his mouth, shivering as her questing tongue slid in and met the tip of his. The kiss burned against his lips banishing all thoughts of a dream. He returned it intensify the pressure, nipping at the tip of her tongue, his hand slipping to the back of her head winding his fingers into the silk of her hair, holding her lips fiercely against his. He had been long without a partner and the heat rose in him until it far outstripped the fire in the hearth. 

He released her lips only long enough to warn her, “If you start this there will be no stopping.”

Her lips captured his lower lip and drew it between her teeth. She nipped it gently and then released it to whisper, “If you try to stop I will kill you.”

His laugh was deep, thundering through his chest. His lips claimed hers again, harder this time, clamping down to steal the very breath from her lungs. She grabbed, digging her fingers into his thick hair, pulling his mouth down even harder. His beard abraded her cheeks and chin, making the soft skin tingle and redden. His tongue thrust deep into her mouth and she met it with hers in a duel. He took a breath and licked her lips, tracing their line with moist tenderness. Her tongue met his, licking him back, tasting him, savoring him, teasing at his moustache. He moaned deep in his chest a basso profundo that sent chills down her spine.

She responded in kind, tiny moans escaped her throat with every breath urging him on, building his heat even higher. Hard nipples pressed against the furred skin of his chest and he slid his hand down to cup her breast. His strong fingers were gentle on her nipple and then firmer, stroking and squeezing, pulling as she arched up against him with soft sounds of approval. 

Her hand moved to stroke his chest, arching her fingers to allow her nails to gently scrape a trail downward, tugging at the hair on his chest, making swirls in it, teasing the nerves and making his own nipples rise hard and aching. She found one and pinched it between her fingers sending little shocks of pleasure coursing through his body. She teased and turned it almost to the point of pain, but backing off to squeeze gently and then abandon it to explore the hard lines of his chest.

That he was a number of inches shorter than the Ranger was forgotten. He was powerful and dominating in his arousal. He kissed her hard, teeth scraping her lips, beard abrading her skin, the fall of his hair sweeping across her sensitive skin. He shifted until he was leaning over her, pinning her, demanding that she finish what she had started. His mouth trailed down her neck kissing, licking, biting gently and just to the point of pain. She arched back giving him access, moaning as his mouth fastened on the tender skin at the base of her throat. He nipped and sucked hard, torturing her flesh gently with his teeth, leaving light bruises that would mark her as his.

Her fingernails scraped teasingly across his nipple once more and then began a slow and torturous journey downward. His belly was wide with sheaths of muscle, hard as a board to her questing fingers. She pushed at the skin and pulled the hair that wended its way down, narrowing as it reached his abdomen. She explored the hard parcels of muscle, cut into sections by strong ligaments. He was broad, but there was not a spare ounce of fat, he was all muscle. It rippled beneath her hand, responding to her touchs and teasing. He was wide and solid and amazingly strong. She had other lovers who towered her, but none exuded Thorin’s aura of pure masculinity.

His body was different than a man’s and she found she liked it very much. She traced the muscles, appreciating their definition. It as if he had been carved by a master; there was no softness to him…except for his mouth. His continued the tiny kisses and licks and pauses to suck at her burning skin. He was rock hard and whisper soft, a living oxymoron and he was slowly driving her mad. 

He was slow with her. She expected to be taken again and again, only to have him continue to tease her with his mouth. Her nipples were so hard they were painful by the time he finally reached and claimed one between his lips. He sucked first gently and then harder, scraping the engorged flesh with sharp white teeth. She pressed up against him, urging him to suck harder, her voice whisper soft and raw with whimpers of desire. 

Kieran’s arms slid around him, nails scraping the skin with passionate gentleness. She pressed and pulled, stroking his skin, sliding her hands down his sides, stroking and marveling at his beautiful body. She loved the feel of him, muscles of steel covered by warm skin that felt silken under her calloused fingers. She reveled in the hair on his chest, the smoothness of his back and the curve at the base of his spine that separated flaring upward and rounding into perfection. When she skimmed her fingernails along the line of his ass he tensed and his teeth pinched her nipple more firmly, both of them shivering with the sensation.

He shifted his attentions to her other nipple, gifting it with the same slow loving attention as the had the first one. She wanted to pull his mouth away and haul him up until he was in position so that she could arch up and taken him within. She ached for him, feeling hollow and empty, her inner walls clenching, needing…only to be tortured by tongue and lips that were in no hurry to abandon her.

His hands held her, turning her easily so that he had access, stroking and teasing, skimming her burning skin as low as her waist only to maddenly stop and slide upward again. Calloused work-hardened palms felt soft against her skin as he stroked first firmly and then almost to a tickle before grasping her and lifting her to turn her for better access to her breasts. He continued to suckle the one while his entire hand encompassed the other. Big hands. Strong hands. Crossed with burn scars and cuts, hands that could have crushed her held her with infinite gentleness and strength.

Her breath came and went in a soft moan that never quite stopped. She was beyond speech. She had expected a quick rough tumble with a hard rough man. Dwarven men were miners and smiths, working stone and metal, they were said not to know how to be lovers. They led hard rough lives and hid their women away as possessions. As his lips worked on she wondered if the women stayed in the depths of the mountain because with men like this they had no need of anything or anyone else. If their nights were filled with the fire of the forge and the strength of stone why would they wander? What need would there be to venture forth and mingle with Tall-folk who neither had the fire or the strength of Dwarven men. Tales told of Dwarven males were wrong in so many ways. Strong and hard they might be, but if Thorin was anything to judge by, they were also skilled lovers. As his hands and lips explored her body she knew that she would always envy Dwarven women.

Kieran’s breathing became more ragged as Thorin’s lips abandoned her nipple to slide downward over her ribcage the narrows of her waist.

“I could span you with two hands,” he whispered to her. His face was upraised to her, hair hanging in tangles that moved with him, pulling forth even more sensation from her skin. “You are slender to be so strong.”

“And you are so strong to be so gentle,” she replied. “I have known aught like you, Thorin.”

He leaned forward and kissed her navel. “Or I you.”

Kieran slid her fingers deep into his hair and tugged gently. “Please take me, I burn…”

He chuckled, the rumble of it quaking against her body. “As do I. But if I do it will be over and I think that I want this memory to last a long time, sweet Ranger.”

His lips descended again and she could feel his smile against her skin. He licked and sucked at the skin of her belly, his hand moving down to find her thigh and slide down it to find the tender place behind her knee. She bent her leg to give him better access and he slowly drew his fingers upward, tracing the muscles along the inside of her thigh. They skimmed the soft furred patch, rich with moisture and then descended her other leg. She whimpered in protest as his fingers passed the center of her without more than a brush against her soft hair.

Thorin squeezed the inside of her thigh, pulling at the flesh, marveling at the way her leg moved instinctively to give him better access. His lips trailed down over her belly to pause at the softness there. He could feel the hard abdominal muscles tensing, but they were padded by soft skin, the small round of femininity that would one day be the cradle of a child within. He could take life, but never bring it. His lips paid honor to her ability to create. It was an ability that held him in awe. Women would never be as strong in battle as a man but they would always have a power that the males lacked and were even stronger because of it. He rested his head on her belly for a moment to honor her and then turned his lips to her skin starting the fire anew.

Kieran could barely reach him as he slid further down her body. She twined her fingers into his hair and let the strands run through her fingers. Thorin’s hair splayed out over her breasts and chest, moving like silk when he turned his head. His hair was warm and soft and scented with wood smoke. The dark waves caught the red of the firelight and reflected it back, shimmering across her body. The feel was mesmerizing, soothing her hot tortured skin, slipping over her hard nipples like a silken kiss. 

He looked up at her, blue eyes dark with lust. She gazed at him, caught in the moment. The two of them alone in the storm, there was no one else in the world but the two of them. The wind howled outside, but here there was only heat and lust and pleasure. He held her gaze a moment longer, drinking in the sight of her, half hidden in shadow, bathed in firelight. He wanted to remember the way she looked forever.

“More,” she whispered. “Make me yours.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement. His deep voice was soft and hoarse. “You already are. You always will be, Ranger, and I yours. No matter what the morrow brings tonight we belong to each other.”

Thorin kissed her belly again and then started to slide lower. He was pinning one leg beneath him, but the other, the one he had been squeezing, bent and pushed her hips upward begging him for what she hoped was to come. He smiled to himself and stopped to nuzzle the velvet-soft line where pubic fur met sleek belly. He teased the edge with his lips, sucking the flesh and laving it with his tongue, moving slowly along the line, pressing his chin into her.

Slowly, tortuously, he moved further down, pausing when he came to the center of her. She was open, moist, begging for his attention. He bent down and kissed her reverently; inhaling the intoxicating scent she exuded. Her pheromones surrounded him, swirling in a dance to delight the senses. He lifted a little so that he could see her, waiting for him. Her softly curling pubic hairs sparkled with tiny beads of moisture that caught the firelight, reflecting it back like tiny jewels. Not all gems are found in the solid rock, he mused. The most precious of all are secreted away and will not yield to pick and mattock, but only to tenderness and affection.

When his tongue touched her and then slid over the most precious pearl of all, she arched up crying out with need. She was a trained warrior, fearless in battle, unrelenting and powerful, but she willingly relinquished the role of victor as she gave herself up to pleasure. He was aware of her strength as he felt strong muscles ripple beneath his hands. He was honored that she would open herself to him, allowing him access to her strong body and guarded heart.

He kissed her reverently. His moustache and beard pressed crisply against her as the softness of his lips teased her. Thorin licked tentatively, exploring, feeling out what she liked and where she was the most sensitive. He explored her with maddening slowness, as calm and through in lovemaking as he was in war. She arched up as he mapped her. Kieran’s fingers grasping reflexively at his hair, shredding through the tangles that spilled over her belly and thighs.

When he’d learned what he needed to know, he delved into her, thrusting deeply with his tongue. He prodded and licked and nipped so gently that shuddered and pressed upward demanding more, firmer, deeper. He gave it to her. Thorin licked with long strokes that stopped at the crux of her to tease and drive her passion higher before descending again. 

She cried out and felt him smile against her, lips curling, mustache teasing as it slid into the easy curve of his smile. He looked up at her, moisture beads twinkling on his mustache, dark blue eyes black with lust. He held her eyes for a long moment committing her expression and responding smile to memory. In years to come he would call this moment forth to remind himself what was truly important and how transient it all was in the long run. It also made diplomatic meetings far less boring.

The Dwarven prince slid his hand up the inside of her thigh, his thick fingers brushing against her opening gently, teasingly. When he had gathered enough moisture, he slid a finger into her and then another as she cried out his name and opened herself for him. He went deep, stretching the tender tissue until her felt the hard pear-shape of her cervix. He pushed, bumping it gently sending ripples of pleasure up her abdomen. Then he backed off and went in quest of the prize.

He found it knuckle-deep on the top surface, a fragile sponge of nerve endings. When he curled his fingers she cried out, yanking his hair in her passion. He fought against the pull, gluing his lips to hers, licking hard and fast as he worked on her internally. She gave one final lunge upward and orgasmed in silence, only able to gasp as the pleasure swirled around her and then concentrated on the center of her being.

As she relaxed he backed off, to touches and kisses that did not over stimulate. He had gotten the jist of her and moved back and forth with her currents. She took great sobbing breaths and reached down to pet the hair she had pulled. He nuzzled her belly and she smiled at the soft scratchiness of his beard and mustache. When he felt her breathing steady he moved back down, kissing softly, questing with the tip of his tongue. He felt the softened tissue firm again as her passion rose again. He licked and tickled and slid well moistened fingers into her, teasing her, bringing back the heat.

When her fingers started to tug at his hair again, he moved upward, sliding his body along hers, pinning her with his superior weight, his Dwarven frame wide and strong. He moved between her legs shifting to give her the freedom to move into position. He lifted off of her, sliding up until he could reach her lips. He kissed her and she leaned into it, her tongue meeting his, flicking the moisture from his lips and mustache. She tasted herself, slick and soft and salty. The warmth of her own aroma filled her mixing with his deep musk and wood smoke. His hair spilled across her face cocooning them into a kiss that drew the very breath from her lungs. When her breath was sobbing in her throat he released her and moved back down her body, his erection trailing fire as it traced along the line of her belly down to her pubes. 

She lifted up and he positioned himself. He held himself and stroked upwards, pulling the foreskin back and running the sensitive head along the wet soft bloom of her, pressing at the peak, rolling her clit around and pressing down, only to slip downwards and press at her opening. She thrust upward seeking to capture him. He teased her once, twice and then thrust forward as she pushed against him.

Thick and strong he slid deep into her, grunting with pleasure as her hot inner walls clenched around him. It was almost enough to drive him over the top, but Thorin paused, and regained control. He took a deep breath and thrust hard into her. His hips were broader than those of a Man and she felt spread and stretched. Turned on even more, she lifted one leg slightly to give him better access. He moved slightly and put a strong hand under her thigh, helping to hold her leg up. It sent his cock into her at more of an angle, hitting that soft spot of sponge atop her vaginal wall. The burst of pleasure was like an electric shock.

She started and then pushed down wiggling her hips to press into him harder. He obliged her, sliding deep into her only to withdraw almost completely and then push forward again. She rose to meet him. She surged forward like the tide, surrounding him, relentless a force of nature. Kieran entered into partnership with him, pushing upward as he thrust, withdrawing as he pulled out. She found his rhythm and matched it. Her muscles corded by years of training and fighting matched his and the two of them rolled together like two great jungle cats, strength on strength, power on power, each chasing both their pleasure and the pleasure of their partner.

As her passion rose higher he accompanied her. It was a dance and he both led and followed. He thrust and churned, within her, his lips scorching over the flesh on her chest and breasts, alternately sucking and gasping as he found and gave pleasure. He twisted more, lifted her leg higher and rammed himself deeper into her, searing her inner walls, playing her as skillfully as he played his golden harp. 

As he felt her orgasm approaching he changed to rhythmic thrusting that rocked her with a steady beat. She felt as if she had been cast into an ocean black with stars and red with firelight. There was nothing in the universe but the two of them and the stars that looked down unmoved by their heated coupling. Her eyes dilated with lust she was blind to everything except her own pleasure. She was aware that Thorin was there whispering to her in deep tones of an ancient language. The firelight flickered and the scent of the wood smoke surrounded them transporting them through time where they were the first couple, discovering each other in a cave many eons past.

She reached her orgasm first arching so high and hard that she lifted him up, her inner walls clenching and milking him, her pleasure sending him crashing into his own climax. He cursed low and deep, his words rumbling in his chest as he rammed forward again and again filling her. He froze, shivers chasing each other up and down his spine as his body pumped into her. The aftershocks made him jerk inside her bringing forth soft moans of completion and pleasure.

He was completely spent as was she. Strong muscles had gone slack with satiation. Two sets of lips were curved in soft smiles. She stroked his hair and whispered to him how good she felt and the little things that lovers share in the aftermath and are never really remembered afterward. His lips found her soft skin in tiny kisses as he nuzzled against her. He made as if to move, but she wound her legs around him trapping him inside. He was comfortable so he relaxed letting her take his weight. He shut his eyes and let sleep take him. Smiling she pulled the blanket over them both and joined him in slumber. 

In the cave, in the firelight, safe in one another's arms they slept. And outside in the dark the snow continued to fall, covering their world with a blanket of white.

**Author's Note:**

> This started to run really long, so I decided to break it into two parts, but it doesn't look like the second one will happen. Trust me, they were found and it took Thorin a long time to live down the ribbing he got from Dwalin, who knew very well how the two of them stayed warm. :)


End file.
